Refraction (Practice Makes Perfect)
by Katie Havok
Summary: She doesn't mean to sound so small and forlorn, but she can't seem to help it. Newt was the one who had caught and saved her, the first to reach out and touch her, and he had started this. Yet, whenever she tries to reach out to him, he gently but firmly rebuffs her.


Warning: _**smut!**_ This was originally published on February 20th, 2017 on Ao3 and is being shared here for the sake of my own ego.

Find me on Tumblr katiehavok.

* * *

Tina couldn't tell you the exact moment _when_ , but somewhere between " _Newt Scamander, and you are?_ " and " _So sorry—how would you feel if I delivered your copy in person_?", she had begun a slow and irrevocable slide. It was a painless trajectory, if an excruciatingly terrifying one; exhilarating and hopeful and bound to hurt when she landed. It was a skid that promised to turn her world on its head and make her reevaluate every priority she held near and dear to her heart.

Because she, Porpentina Goldstein, inveterate career girl and hard-headed Auror had, somehow, someway, fallen in love with a socially-awkward yet indefinably _charming_ magizoologist. One whose stock and trade seemed to be floppy hair, crooked smiles, and a distinctively _odd_ walk.

Newt comes back as promised, which is her first surprise. He comes back with a _purpose_ , which is her second. Her third...well, she can think of worst ways to initiate a romance than a hesitant kiss on a bench in Central Park, trembling beneath fall leaves. He was nervous, and she could taste it. He was relatively inexperienced, and she could sense it. He was also immeasurably passionate, and she could _feel_ it. His passion speaks to and awakens her own, and she initiates their second kiss under the streetlight when he drops her at home.

(She spends the rest of the evening pressing her fingers to her mouth in awe. Queenie, for a wonder, stays jubilantly silent on the issue.)

Her Newt courts her and is flawless in his execution. "Not so different from a mating dance, really," he sniffs the one and only time she asks, and Tina's wise enough not to bring the subject up again. He takes her out for lunch and brings her on long walks around the neighborhood or through the park. He holds her arm or, if he's feeling bold, twines their fingers together. He lets her lead the conversation and never, ever has her out past 9 p.m. on a work night. If it's a weekend, he usually unbends enough to join her in the apartment, beneath Queenie's gimlet gaze.

If Tina's _really_ lucky, he'll loosen his bow tie and shed his suit coat and roll up his sleeves. They'll sit and talk over wine or whiskey, or play Exploding Snaps with Queenie and Jacob and stay up until all hours, drunk on being in love. Then her Newt retires to the couch, and allows her to tuck him in, and never lets her leave without a slow, lingering kiss.

Eventually, Queenie and Jacob start going to his place for the night, to allow Tina and Newt time alone. Tina expects Newt to make a move—something. _Anything_. Instead, he seems to grow more reticent the longer they are left to their own devices until he retreats to his case in a hurry and she is left, frustrated and alone, on the couch.

Alone. _Always_ alone.

Tina holds out patiently for one month. Two. Three. Finally, on an otherwise unexceptional night in mid-March, she decides that she's had enough of this slow, awkward dance.

"Will you _quit_ doing that?" she growls when he cracks his knuckles for the umpteenth time that evening. Newt freezes, fingers curled awkwardly, before slowly relaxing his hands. His eyes, when they chance upon her face, are wide and guilty. His nervous frown causes Tina to feel a fleeting pang of remorse.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, refusing eye contact, and Tina swallows a frustrated groan. She watches his eyes cut toward his case, propped innocently enough in the corner, and something within her _flashes_ and burns out. Her frustration wilts; self-recrimination rushes in to replace it as she sags weakly into the cushions.

"It's me, isn't it?"

She doesn't intend to sound so small and forlorn, but she can't seem to help it. Newt was the one who had caught and saved her, the first to reach out and touch her, and he had _started this_. Yet, whenever she tries to reach out to him, he gently but firmly rebuffs her. She can't fathom any reason he would hesitate other than a deficiency in her character; she just wishes he would tell her, so they could both cleanly cut the string and move on.

" _What_?"

She really isn't expecting a coherent answer, so that single flat declarative causes her to gape at him in surprise. She's in for another shock when she examines his face: he looks equal parts flummoxed and ashamed, as if some vital puzzle piece had just slotted into place for him and the ensuing picture was not what he was expecting. He angles his head and reads her face before moving closer and twining their fingers. Nothing hesitant or awkward in _that_ gesture, she's pleased to note. His touch is firm and sure.

"Tina, whatever you're thinking, I assure you: _nothing_ could be further from the truth." He lifts their tangled fingers to brush his lips over her knuckles, mouth warm against her skin. The skin on her arms prickles, a shiver chasing over her scalp and spine. He either doesn't notice or attaches no significance to it. Tina bites her lip.

"Then why do you avoid me every time I try to get closer to you?"

She doesn't want to ask; she _doesn't_. But the question is heavy on her tongue and has been weighing it down for months, and there's isn't a spell or potion in the world that could answer it. "Is it me? Do you regret coming back?"

Newt goes alarmingly still. His wide eyes impassively reflect the candlelight as he processes her words. Then animation seeps back into him and he looks at her, a patented Newt look: firm and unflinching and intensely personal. " _No_." He growls his answer, actually growls it. Tina watches him, fascinated. "It's not a lack of attraction, or remorse, or you. I assure you, Tina _—_ I _want_ to take things further with you. I do."

His fingers twitch as if they wish to resume their cuticle picking. He closes his eyes in pained self-reproach when he continues. "It's me, if you must know. I haven't had much practice in human, ah, _relations_ since the war, so you can assume that I am very rusty on that count." He opens his eyes, a deep amber in the low light, and stares at her. "I have no desire to disappoint you, or to force you to lower your expectations."

Tina blinks rapidly, utterly blindsided. Newt endures this stoically until he can't, eyes fumbling to her lap. She closes her jaw with a snap before moving close enough for their thighs to touch, close enough to feel the gentle puff of his breath. She untangles her hand from his and touches his cheek, infinitely gentle. He hesitates a moment before leaning into it with a satisfied sound. She wraps her other arm around his shoulders as he melts into her.

" _Newt_. I promise you that there's nothing you could do that would disappoint me. It's not like I have a lot of experience in these things, either." He rumbles unhappily until she squeezes him. She brushes her lip over his cheek, feather soft. "Besides, if you're rusty, well—don't they say that practice is essential to learning?" It's a slightly risky question, but she's feeling bold and desperate to break the tense atmosphere, so she chances it.

Newt hums thoughtfully before turning his face into her neck. Tina holds her breath when he inhales deeply before gentle lips brush the skin beneath his mouth. She shivers, and he does it again, a little more confidently. Familiar lips kiss the skin over her jugular, then a velveteen tongue sweeps out to taste her until Tina's arms go around him and _clutch_. He hums again, the vibration from his throat sinking into her skin as Tina finds herself suddenly, hopelessly, irrevocably aroused.

Firm lips trail the length of her throat. He places an open-mouthed kiss on the cartilage delineating her voice box and she gasps, loud and clear in the silence of the room. He swallows the sounds she makes when shaky halos work further down. His tongue dips into her suprasternal notch before jerking back up to claim her mouth, firmly and hungrily. Tina sighs into it and holds him tighter, fingernails scratching against the satin back of his waistcoat.

"Is this what you want?" he murmurs as he presses kisses along her jaw.

Tina sighs blissfully. "I just want you," she confirms, and he makes a tight sound before pressing his hot mouth into the skin behind her ear.

"You're certain?" His voice is an enticing burr against her skin, and she whines desperately in the back of her throat. He jerks against her, breath stuttering before his tongue flicks out to taste the hinge of her jaw. Newt reclaims her mouth and there's nothing questioning or unsure in his kiss—it's all heat and possession.

"Get these clothes off," she gasps, instead of _do you really have to ask_ , and Newt tips his forehead against hers and forces eye contact. He draws a deep, shaky breath and she copies him, nostrils flaring. Another, and she feels calmer. Less desperate. A third and the raw edge of her hunger has been blunted enough for her to take the measure of his wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

"Are you absolutely _sure_?" he clarifies, his voice tight with nerves.

She kisses him in answer, a gentle press, and slides her fingers into his hair. He leans into her mouth and tugs her blouse free of her slacks before warm, calloused fingers find her skin. Tina sighs in wonder and rolls her head back. Newt quickly shifts gears to kiss the shelf of her jaw while determinedly releasing the buttons of her blouse.

Newt stares appreciatively when he parts her blouse to reveal a simple girdle and step-ins. He wastes no time in pushing it off before leaning forward to kiss and tongue her sternum through the sheer fabric covering her chest.

Tina tangles her fingers in his hair and murmurs encouragingly when he presses his face into the valley between her breasts and sighs, shoulders shuddering. He turns his head to kiss the underside of her breasts before wrapping his lips around the entirety of her nipple, sucking deeply. Tina keens, fingers tugging his hair.

Newt switches to the other side, making her gasp until he pulls away. Twin wet blotches stain her chemise, allowing the dusty pink of her nipple to show through. Newt seems transfixed by this sight, staring until his fingers fumble to her girdle and pluck at the zipper there.

"Take this off." The growl is back in his voice. Tina presses her thighs together, center pulsating rhythmically, and places a calming hand on his chest.

"Help me with my slacks first, Newt."

He complies, fingers fumbling open her fly as she lifts her hips and allows him to peel her slacks off her legs. He tosses them aside to lay abandoned on the floor before leaning forward and brushing his hands over her thighs, his touch light and reverent. Tina watches him through heavy lids as he places a kiss on the swell of her hip before tonging the edge of her girdle. Her step-ins obscure the juncture of her legs so he leaves them alone for now; instead, he peels her girdle off to pepper the plane of her stomach with kisses.

Tina moves against him, signaling her willingness with soft sighs and gentle huffs. Newt gasps when he eases his hands beneath her chemise to touch her breasts, and Tina allows him a moment of indecision before sitting up quickly and yanking the entire one-piece garment off.

"There," she says lightly as she frees her ankles. "That's done. Look and touch all you want, Newt."

Newt bites down _hard_ on his lip as his eyes flit over her. He focuses on the globe of her breast, the slight curve of her stomach, and the gentle swell of her hips. Tina lays back and drapes herself over the couch, and he exhales sharply when her thighs nudge apart. A few fortifying breaths later and Newt finally allows his eyes to fall to her hidden center.

His gaze lingers hungrily while Tina takes measured breathes, before darting to her face. Back to her core, and a deep tremor settles in Tina's thighs and spreads throughout her stomach. Newt's curious hand brushes her springy curls and Tina clenches her eyes shut. She twitches her hips into his touch and sucks in a quick breath.

" _Feel_ what you do to me." She opens her eyes to find his, wide and dark in his flushed face. "If you need proof, there it is."

He groans and drops his head onto her leg. Trembling fingers brush aside the thatch of hair covering her to touch her moist outer lips, light as a butterfly. Tina hisses and presses herself into his fingers, mindlessly seeking friction. Newt shudders, and she feels it translated through where he touches her.

"Wet," he manages, and Tina nods frantically. "I—you—"

" _Yes_."

"I didn't realize."

Newt sounds _shattered_. She can feel the brush of his lips against her thigh when he speaks, and she wants desperately to ask him to move his mouth just to the right, to someplace where he can put it to better use. She restrains the urge with difficulty, intent on not scaring him off, but her Newt is ever the scientist, and a few more careful breaths see him throwing over his hesitation in favor of exploration.

Newt lifts his head and wriggles closer, until he's prone between her legs and she can feel his breath washing over her core. His gaze flicks over her body until he finds her eyes, and the blissed-out curiosity on his flushed face causes her very _bones_ to ache with arousal. She lets her head fall back, closing her eyes against the overwhelming stimuli when Newt makes a sound that curls around her spine.

He parts her with newly-bold fingers, but Tina has no time to marvel at his sudden bravado. Instead, she moans liquidly when he runs a slim finger along her slit, moving her fluids around before brushing her clit. He makes a thoughtful noise and pushes into her, causing her to clench around the digit. Another encouraging sound and he adds a second finger, then a third, stretching her deliciously as he sets his pace.

"Is this…?" he asks, allowing the question to trail off, and Tina opens her eyes.

"'S good," she gasps, and whines when his thumb tentatively circles her clit. Newt does it again and she rolls her hips into it to meet his thrusts. Tina lifts her head to find him watching her, drinking in her expression with open wonder. His eyes remain on her when he deliberately leans forward, replacing his thumb with a curious tongue, and the groan he produces at her taste thrums through them both. His eyes drift closed as he dedicates himself fully to the task, relatively unskilled but _eager_ to learn, tongue and fingers working in tandem to spur her to the edge. Tina buries her hand in his hair as she eases her leg over his shoulder.

"Newt, I'm close," she gasps when a new pulse settles into her lower abdomen. Newt groans, the vibration causing her to quiver, and intensifies his ministration. His eyes open to _scorch_ into hers. She matches his gaze and elevates it with her musical moans.

" _Yes_ ," she gasps after a time, and then: "Newt, _Newt_ , that's it, I—I'm going to—"

Tina shudders hard, grinding against his mouth as Newt swirls his tongue against her with abandon. Her hips wrench away from him and he throws his weight forward to pin her down, sucking her clit until she keens and tugs at his hair. She contracts around his fingers hard enough to push them out, and keens again when his tongue casts aside its frantic pace in favor of broad, slow swipes. He maintains this until Tina pushes him away, prickling skin over-wrought with pleasure. Her wide eyes take in the ceiling as she breathes, allowing her frantic heart rate to slow.

Newt shifts and Tina cuts her eyes to watch him. He kneels between her sprawled legs and removes his waistcoat and shirt without fanfare. Newt raises a questioning brow when he reaches for the placket of his trousers, and Tina nods without hesitation. He tosses them aside with his underwear and stoically endures her silent scrutiny, face giving nothing away as she finally, _finally_ takes him in entirely.

Tina isn't sure what she was expecting, but she thinks she understands his reticence a little better.

He's riddled with scars of all manner, from obvious hex marks to what could possibly be the keloidal remnants of gunshot wounds. There's a large, shiny burn dominating the bicep and tricep of his right arm, ending just below the elbow; the skin covering his left ribs looks as though it was _shredded_ at one point, and ineptly healed. Objectively viewed, they aren't pretty, but Tina is seeing him with lover's eyes, and each imperfection adds character to the man she calls her own. Newt's watching her warily, and she graces him with a small smile before sitting up to take his hand.

"Come here," she murmurs, pulling him over her. She touches his shoulders, feeling the mars and imperfections there, and Newt closes his eyes with a deep sigh. "I love them," she declares, speaking only the truth, and Newt takes her mouth in a kiss rife with possession. He breaks away with a wet gasp and Tina senses his need for reassurance. "I love _you_ ," she whispers tenderly, pushing the hair away from his brow until his damp eyes smile down at her.

"I love you, too," he manages hoarsely when the cloudburst has passed, and Tina touches his face before working a hand between them. She brushes where he juts from his center, hot and hard against her fingers, and he presses his forehead into her neck. "I love when you do that, too," he chokes, and she smiles beatifically.

Tina wraps her fingers around him, instinctively pleased with the size and girth of him, and strokes from base to tip. He gasps, loud and damp against her skin. She does it again until her arm settles into a steady rhythm and he quivers against her. His hand drifts down to finger her, finding her slick and molten, and Tina moans her approval. He works her core with delicate touches, matching her movements and reigniting the banked heat in her belly until he shudders deeply; then he firmly captures her hand and halts her movements.

"Tina," he breathes, mouth hot on her skin. "I would very much like it if you...if you would ask me to—I mean, if you'd allow—"

Tina captures his bottom lip between her teeth, effectively silencing him. Newt draws a steadying breath as she nibbles, watching her avidly. Her legs shift, thighs parting and drawing back into her chest until he can settle more firmly between them, the flare of her hip bones cutting into his waist. He swallows, tongue touching his upper lip while half-lidded eyes consume her.

Tina raises her chin to kiss him properly, all clashing tongues and heat, until they struggle to breathe. "I want you to do it," she pants against his mouth and wraps her calf around him. "I want—I want to _know_ you, Newt." She falters only a moment, unfamiliar words clumsy in her mouth. He kisses her tenderly and draws back to sweep his eyes down her body.

Newt fumblingly lines them up, eagerness making him clumsy, and Tina makes gently encouraging sounds while kneading the skin of his shoulders and upper arms. His tip presses against her entrance and her eyes drift close in anticipation. "No," he says, hips vibrating with repressed motion. "Look at me, Tina." She does, and he pushes in and fills her until their hips meet and he can sink no further. Only then does he allow her eyes drift closed in bliss, head falling back while her throat works.

Newt sighs her name, long and drawn out, and rolls his head to watch her. He drops forward while hooking one arm around her thigh, the other guiding her leg to drape around his waist. It's an open, scissored position, one that allows him to sink unfathomably deep, and his first few experimental thrusts inspire them to moan in unison. She feels a thrum work through him when he finds their rhythm, and his damp mouth presses to her throat and neck, sometimes kissing, occasionally nibbling, always producing pleased sighs and moans. Tina pets the nape of his neck, claws at his shoulders, and breathes his name reverently as heat builds.

"— _Tina_ —" he chokes, too soon for her, and she pushes his hair back from his forehead. Tina watches his face cramp as he tries desperately to contain his reaction, invariably fighting a losing battle. She smiles and kisses him tenderly.

"It's okay," she breathes against his mouth when his rhythm takes on a shuddering, desperate edge. "Let go, Newt."

He makes a sound like a wounded animal as his eyes screwed shut. Tina watches as his face and chest infuse with blood, turning them ruddy while his hair spills over his brow. His hand clamps around her shoulder to anchor himself, eyes flying open. He groans long and deep and low and thrusts hard one last time before juddering to a halt. His release fills her with warmth, and Tina sighs and presses their faces together.

Newt sags against her, panting into her neck before moistening his lips. "I'm sorry," he croaks, raising his head with an effort. "I didn't intend to finish without satisfying you." She watches his throat work as he swallows, dilated pupils dominating his features until he recovers enough for roaming hands to find and tweak her still-hard nipple. "Let me see what I can do." He kisses her before bringing his lips to the juncture of her neck.

 _You don't have to do anything_ is on the tip of her tongue when he licks a broad swatch across her skin before pursing his lips and blowing on it gently. She mewls and he grins roguishly, stubble scraping her pink when he ravishes her neck. Her fingernails find the scars on his back and shoulders and cut in, and he grunts before pressing his chest into her, maximizing skin contact.

Tina feels him wilt and go soft where he's still pressed into her. Instead of withdrawing, however, he shifts to rest more comfortably on his knees and drags a hand over her torso, two fingers finally settling against her clit. He braces a finger on either side of the bud and rubs teasingly, flicking his tongue into her mouth before brushing over the tiny peak and swallowing her punctured moan.

Newt angles his chin to look down at their bodies, watching where his hand frigs her. He alternates watching and kissing her—sometimes deeply, sometimes teasingly, until Tina's breathless and tightly wound. Her skin tingles as she focuses her attention inward, center tightening in anticipation. Newt's eyes clench shut momentarily before he seals their mouths together in a blistering kiss.

"You're _squeezing_ me," he gasps when they part, and Tina digs her fingernails into his scalp and yanks at his hair.

The pressure of his hand eases, morphing from strokes designed to spur her to completion to teasing brushes intended to draw it out. She tightens around him again and they moan together. Newt angles his upper body awkwardly to take a tingling nipple into his mouth and the brush of his tongue is nearly enough to see her undone. His hand _stops_ and she hisses her disappointment—until his lips press into her jaw and she hears his mumbled question.

"Tina, can't you feel that?"

Tina focuses past the suspended bliss clouding her perception and gulps when she quivers against something hard and full and pressed deep. He grins at her thunderstruck expression before kissing her softly. "That's what you do to _me_ ," he breathes into her ear when they part, before replacing the brush of his hand with the snap of his hips.

Tina keens and clings to him when he thrusts experimentally, before settling into a short, hard rhythm intended to maximizes sensation. She clutches his shoulders with gasps and moans as he pushes her to the brink, hurtling her toward the edge with firm movements and murmured encouragements.

"Tina," he pants in her ear, voice smoky and breathless and without shame. "Please let me feel you come before I do."

A nip to her earlobe, a particularly hard thrust and she's _there_ , her good orgasm sweeping through her as a series of heated volleys that seem to go on and on, intensified by his ardent ministrations. Newt arches into her hard enough to cause stars to flash across her vision before shuddering and going still, body quivering with his release.

They ride the crest until they wash up on shore, tangled and sweaty and sated.

"You were saying?" Tina asks sometime later, fingers tangled hopelessly in his hair. Newt snorts a laugh and kisses her breastbone. He raises his head to watch her lazily before pressing his cheek against hers and fetching a deep, happy sigh.

"My apologies. I truly thought I would disappoint. You don't suppose this was a happy accident?"

Tina slaps his shoulder and rolls her eyes before dropping a kiss into his hair. "No, I don't think it was. I think it'll only get better from here—if you're okay with us, uh, doing this again." She worries her lower lip, suddenly and inexplicably nervous. "You _do_ want to do this again, don't you?"

Newt's expression turns serious when he raises his head, drinking in her features before softening into wonder. His thumb brushes her bottom lip and unwelcome tears spring into her eyes. "You must stop selling yourself short like this," he whispers, replacing his thumb with a tender kiss. He kisses her until she blinks the tears away, and Tina's smile is strong when he leans back to examine her.

"That's better," he declares calmly. "That's my Tina. I do love every inch of you, you know. If I can accept that I may not be entirely physically hopeless, then you must accept that you are _entirely_ appealing to me. I won't have you putting yourself down." He kisses her again, but it doesn't expand and inflame; instead, it wraps around them and binds them together. It gives his words substance and etches them indelibly onto her heart.

"Besides," he continues later when their skin has cooled. "Doesn't the saying go that 'practice makes perfect?'"

"It does," Tina agrees while squeezing him, and his answering smile makes her heart skip a beat.

"Then I suppose we'd better practice some more," he murmurs and claims her mouth in a kiss.


End file.
